


The Black Widow takes care of her team

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Natasha, Flash Fic, M/M, Natasha Romanov-centric, Non-Graphic Violence, Phil Needs a Hug, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1553486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha didn't like this mission from the start. They'd ignored Clint's request for an alternative sniper nest, and now, unsurprisingly, Clint's position is compromised.<br/>All she's got left are seventeen different knives, the tranq darts in the concealed compartment of her boot, and three garrotte wires, because Tony had to choose this week to upgrade her gauntlets.<br/>Well, and obviously Coulson, but Natasha is prepared to ignore him if his judgement is compromised by Clint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Black Widow takes care of her team

**Author's Note:**

> I set myself a challenge to write a coherent story in 200 words.  
> I failed.
> 
> When I decided to raise the word limit to 250, this is what came out.

_Love is a disease_ , Natasha reflects, crashing through the window before rolling into a poised crouch, daggers flying. _Symptoms of it include acting rashly and becoming dependent on others_.

"Widow," comes Coulson's voice in her ear, with an urgent undercurrent of worry, "Secure Hawkeye."

She nods, knowing he can see her through the surveillance cameras, pulling her knives out of prone bodies.

Clint's comm crackles back to life with a gasped, abortive "Phil-" before fizzling into silence.

"Clint-!" says Coulson, catching himself, swathing the fear in his voice with calm. "Natasha, kills are allowed. Get Clint. Now."

Natasha decides to reconsider her assertion as she sprints down the corridor, dispatching human obstacles with stabs into throats and jabs into eyes. _Love is leading Coulson, yes, but barring the clear signs of distress he is displaying, it is not apparently affecting his judgement_.

 _Good_ , she concludes, effortlessly smashing a door open with a graceful, precise kick, revealing Clint struggling with an enemy agent, face purpling, communicator shattered beneath his boots.

Natasha flicks a single tranquilizer dart, and the hostile collapses with a sharp breath.

Clint pants, "Thanks, Tash," before propping himself up, trembling.

Mutely, she drops her comm into his shaking hands, sparing a murmured, "Coulson," as he fumbles with it.

"I'm okay," she hears, striding through the wreckage strewn across the floor, leaning to inspect their fallen enemy, and when Clint says, softer this time, "Love you too," she doesn't try to hide her smile.

 _Love is a contagious disease_.


End file.
